The Finale
by palesadpuppet
Summary: [Request Drabble, MidvalleyxWolfwood] They didn't have a right to a happy ending. Not in this world.


The gold of the saxophone blended nicely with the colors of Midvalley's shirt and jacket- calm pink and pure white-, slurring together like a drunken man's words behind the gently billowing clouds of smoke. The accompaniment- the dying screams of men, the sobbing of the few still alive- could've been better, but the musician sounded wonderful anyway, his fingers moving deftly over the cool metal of his beloved instrument to produce a louder, clearer sound. Wolfwood watched the Player through the smog, which made his eyes tear up and his vision swim a little when he stared straight at him; he stifled a cough in a black sleeve without moving, barely even starting as another building went up in flames nearby.

Neither of them was the kind of men that dwelled on what could have been, and that was perfect for their line of work; when there was no chance of a dream coming true, you brushed it aside, didn't let it haunt you. They were assassins working for a higher form of life who wanted to destroy every trace of their very species, and they shouldn't even have had dreams at all. The least they could do was make sure their hopes never lingered.

And while Knives didn't seem to mind if they shared a kiss or a bed now and then, they wouldn't last together any more than they'd last apart; though, that didn't make things duller, not by a long shot. It added an edge of desperation to the way Midvalley kissed Wolfwood, hard and endless, winding his fingers in the Chapel's hair and pressing his back into the railing of the balcony overlooking the desert. Beyond any doubt, every night they spent together could have been their last; it nagged at them both cruelly, the knowledge that no matter how much they did now, it wouldn't make the loss any easier when one of them died. It sparked a hunger, a desire to take in advance what they could so easily lose tomorrow.

Midvalley kissed him and kissed him, arms wrapped around him in the kind of embrace that made Wolfwood wonder if he'd ever let go. _Even in death, _added the nagging voice, from somewhere in the depths of his mind; the Chapel gripped Midvalley's shoulders tightly, nearly knocking the Player back as he leaned in and pressed their lips together violently.

In the days when it didn't seem such an absurd notion, Wolfwood had found himself hoping, praying, that they might end up together somehow- somewhere that the Plants would never find them, never cross their minds again. He'd even considered growing old with Midvalley, gray-haired and wizen, before he realized that cancer, the smoke in his lungs, would kill him long before age did. But all the same, he'd wondered if maybe there _was _something they could do differently to change the way things were going.

And there they stood, still doing the dirty work of a maniac who was apparently too busy to bloody his own hands on some days. The battlefields, riddled with corpses- staring accusingly, as though it were all their fault- and the dwindling numbers of their fellow Guns were pure evidence that whatever they had wasn't to last much longer.

The Player couldn't take it. Wolfwood only noticed dimly how odd that was; here he was, the preacher, the holy one, and it was the slick, jazzy Player that couldn't bear to keep killing.

The bullet had cut through Midvalley's chest quite well, shot from close enough range that it broke the skin on his back and spread a crimson stain over the white, just below his shoulders. Sylvia's last song spluttered, the sound flitting away as his lips parted in shock and broke the seal that, moments ago, they had made around the saxophone's reed.

Wolfwood hadn't moved. They weren't characters in a pretty romance story, and the Chapel would have jeopardized his own life if he'd gone to hold Midvalley as the Hornfreak died. He'd merely listened, with a feeling as though his ears were as sharp as his lover's in those moments, to the final few breaths escaping Midvalley's lips.

They didn't have a right to a happy ending. Not in this world.


End file.
